


hurrah for the fun! is the pudding done?

by hyacinthed



Series: being eleven is a real trial [2]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin, The Baby-Sitters Club (TV 2020)
Genre: Blended family, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Family Fluff, Gen, Holidays, also theyre in eighth grade, au where dawn stays in stoneybrook, even though theyre my OTP, irl christmas in july, its july but i'm already festive, kristy and mary anne are platonic here, minor character erasure lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyacinthed/pseuds/hyacinthed
Summary: The club gets together to celebrate the winter holidays with their families.
Relationships: Elizabeth Thomas Brewer/Watson Brewer, Mary Anne Spier & Kristy Thomas, Richard Spier/Sharon Porter Spier
Series: being eleven is a real trial [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844602
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12
Collections: Gen and Aro Prompts (Any fandom)





	hurrah for the fun! is the pudding done?

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [27twinsister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/27twinsister/pseuds/27twinsister) in the [GenAndAroPrompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/GenAndAroPrompts) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Any fandom!  
> Write about a family dinner.  
> That’s it that’s the prompt. Can be LGBTQ+ if you want.  
> Some ideas:  
> -Include ALL possible family members you can think of (aunts/uncles, grandparents, great-grandparents, new babies, in-laws, etc)  
> -Holiday or other special occasion (birthday, wedding reception where it’s ironic because the main character is aroace, etc)  
> -Teenagers sit at the children’s table even though they’re old enough to be at the adult table  
> -Single Parents! Taking care of the kids!  
> -People feeding stuff they don’t wanna eat to the dog under the table
> 
> A very loosely inspired prompt fic, spurred on by a ton of Yuletide fics that I binge read. This was meant to be a tiny one-shot!!! How did this happen??

**001.**

Mary Anne's leg hasn't stopped bouncing since the hands on the old grandfather clock crawled past nine a.m.. She's not quite sure what's got her keyed up more - having her first real family Christmas (sure, her father is family, but this is  _ different _ ) or the bucketloads of Sharon's special fruity tea that's equal parts sugar and caffeine. Dawn swears up and down that it helps her to focus during their back-to-back Algebra I classes, but it's left Mary Anne positively  _ buzzing _ . She's double and triple and quadruple checked everything, making sure that every last detail is perfect for when the guests arrive. Her dad had spent ages digging through their garage to drag out anything they could use as tables and chairs, an essential step for a party that’s ballooned from two people to twenty-two. She knows her dad's nervous - he's flitting around Sharon in the kitchen, scrutinising her every move, but now and then he'll shoot Mary Anne a glance that seems to say  _ I've got it under control, _ which in Dad-speak is as good as she could hope for. 

Mary Anne's busy rearranging the entry-way decorations when Dawn emerges from the yard, her arms laden with various garden clippings and flowers. 

"What do you think?" she chirps, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. Her long threadbare scarf dangles from one shoulder, a relic of a knitting class gone awry.

Mary Anne steps forward to grab a sprig of holly, admiring the crimson sheen of the berries in the morning light. "They're perfect, Dawn!" she exclaims, beckoning her sister over to the dining table. She's collected virtually every visually appealing container in the house - Sharon's a little eclectic, so there are plenty to choose from - in anticipation of Dawn's harvest.

The two girls busy themselves in arranging the plants, spreading little pockets of greenery throughout the house. Of course, their decorations aren't finished without the iconic bunch of mistletoe pinned above the door. It takes a few minutes of struggling, and two attempts at piggybacking each other, but the decorations are finally complete. The living room's almost unrecognisable to Mary Anne - it looks nothing like the usual orderly space that her Dad insists on, and her heart feels like it's going to burst.

Everything is different this year. Her house is filled with the noise of carols and chatter, laughter and singing, the kinds of festivities she’d dreamed about since she was a kid. It wasn't that her dad hadn't tried; he'd gone out of his way to cook something special each year, making a big deal about having father-daughter time. She'd always liked that. This, though, was a whole new universe, a world where she had a sister and a step-mom who she loved with her entire heart, and she couldn’t picture anything better. 

Christmas, to Mary Anne, is about being with the people you love most in the world. Thankfully for her, the Spiers' family home can fit bus-loads of people. 

**002.**

Christmas at Kirsty's home is best described in one word: chaos. Even before Watson had come around, holidays at the Thomas home were noisy and messy in all of the best ways. Their holidays were pretty predictable - they'd kept the same traditions since she was a kid, and she and David Michael had staunchly campaigned to maintain the status quo after they’d moved houses.

The first tradition came at the beginning of December. The whole family would bundle into mom's station wagon, and they'd always rock paper scissors over who had to sit in the dreaded middle seat. Mom would drive them out to the Christmas tree farm where they'd spend what felt like hours picking the best one. Did they want a taller one, or a broader one? Did they want one as green as the limes at the supermarket, or one so dark that it looked like it had been splashed with paint? Inevitably, they'd debate each and every tree, only settling when Mom threatened to take them all home. The argument, the threat, the compromise; it was all tradition. Christmas simply was not Christmas without someone crying at the Christmas tree farm. This year, Karen had been the first to sniffle, and Kristy thought Watson could not be any less amused. Mercifully, Sam had distracted Karen, parading around with a fallen bough like a marching band baton, keeping the hysterics at bay until Watson had a satisfactory tree loaded atop the car. Mom had scolded the kids in the car, but Kristy would swear that she could see a twinkle in her eye in the rearview mirror. It was Christmas, after all.

Next, after the tree had been erected in the centre of the living room, they'd take it in turns to arrange the decorations. Charlie would always assert himself as the first to choose an ornament - after all, he was the oldest - though typically they let David Michael choose next, lest they'd suffer Mom's disappointment. After the whole crying incident, Watson had gently cajoled the kids into letting Karen choose first this year. She'd perked up pretty quickly after that, content to dig through the boxes of tinsel to arrange them for selection. As far as little siblings went, Karen was alright. Sure, she cried way more than other kids her age, but she hung onto Kristy's every word like she was God, and that was an entirely new experience for a kid who'd only grown up with annoying brothers. 

Karen loved her Mom's Christmas Eve baking almost as much as Kristy did, and that was a heck of a lot. Every year they'd choose a few recipes to create together, often taking a trip or two to the library to peruse cookbooks. One time they'd tried to use one of Mary Anne's dad's old recipes, but the page was so faded and stained that they'd had to guess half of the directions. The ginger cookies had come out as hard as rocks, even loosening one of Sam’s remaining baby teeth. Since then, Mom had set a new rule that the recipes had to be legible, if only to prevent further dental issues. Kristy considered that a fair trade. 

Christmas morning, though, was unbeatable in Kirsty's eyes. One of the boys would be up at the crack of dawn - usually, it was David Michael, though Sam often stepped up to be the watchman - and would race to wake the others, bleary-eyed and dazed. They'd pile into their Mom's bed, jumping on her to wake her from her slumber, begging to open presents. The morning would pass in a blur of shredded paper and loud music and a stream of neighbourhood kids in and out of the house to play with new toys. For most of her life, that had included Mary Anne, who was on her doorstep bright and early in her pyjamas, ready to open gifts with the Thomas siblings. This was the first year that Kristy wouldn't be spending the morning with Mary Anne, but her Mom had reassured her that they could create a new tradition of seeing each other later in the day.

And so, the Christmas lunch was born, a melding of all of the baby-sitters' families into one big happy community of parents and kids. Christmas, to Kristy, had always been about tradition. She'd realise later that the joy came from the process of making traditions with those that you love, knowing that your happiness was secure and predictable for another year. Christmas was changing, but Kristy was happy. After all, she had Mary Anne to celebrate with - the most important tradition of all.

**003.**

Claudia's Christmases were generally uneventful. They'd only started celebrating when Janine got to elementary school and began to ask questions about why they were different from the other kids in her class who'd start excitedly chatting about the holidays as early as November. Her parents had explained that they'd never celebrated back home, that they weren't religious, but all Claudia could think of was how  _ fun _ it all sounded. Between the gift-giving and decorations and grandeur, Christmas seemed wonderful, and she wanted nothing more than to participate in the festivities. And so her parents had reluctantly acquiesced, agreeing to have a go at emulating some of the foreign traditions. Neither Mom nor Dad seemed to care too much, but that didn't dim Claudia's excitement. 

Every year, Claudia made cards for her friends and family, designing elaborate keepsakes that she slaved over long into the night. She always started on December first, spreading the supplies out across her desk until her bedroom resembled a craft store, post-earthquake. Claudia always created Janine's card last, too. Part of her argued that it was just a coincidence, but the more honest part of her knew that the tradition was very deliberate. She wanted everything to be perfect for Janine’s card, for it to be the most beautiful of all of her creations, and so she spent the days leading up to the card planning and honing her technique to ensure that the final work was stunning. Janine always replied with a simple thank you, but one time she'd left her bedroom door open and Claudia had seen cards from years past tacked up above her desk. Knowing that she kept them and continued to look at them years later was all the encouragement she needed to continue creating.

Christmas, for Claudia, was about bringing the beauty of the world to others. Whether she did this through gifts or carols or art, Claudia didn't mind, so long as she could make the recipient feel as special as they were to her. And if that meant studying up on her geometry so she could construct a glittery parabola card for Janine out of yarn and felt, so be it. 

(Janine doesn't tell her until they're both well into their twenties, but she values the cards more than any other of her childhood keepsakes. She keeps a clipping of one of the smaller cards in her wallet so that she can be perpetually greeted by Claudia's two-dimensional rendering of Marie Curie in a Santa hat.)

**004.**

Stacey knows two kinds of Christmas - the glitzy New York one, and the new Stoneybrook version.

Christmas in New York was like something from a Hallmark movie, the kind of romantic dream that she and Dawn loved to squeal over during recess. Ever since Stacey was a kid, her mom and dad had made a big deal about taking her ice-skating in Central Park. From the moment she could stand in her own two skates, Stacey had been taught to glide and twirl, whipping around the ice like a ballerina (okay, maybe not that graceful, but a girl could dream). They’d skate until their legs ached, their noses pink from the winter chill, and her dad would insist on treating her to a hot chocolate to warm up. If she squeezes her eyes just tight enough, Stacey can almost feel the icy metal of the rink handrails against her palms like a beacon calling her home. 

When she’s a grown-up, the first thing she’s going to do is celebrate Christmas in New York. 

For now, though, she’s celebrating Christmas in Stoneybrook with her four best friends. She’s spent extra time this year planning out everyone’s gifts, making a long list of all her ideas. By the time she’s decided, the lined notebook paper is filled with scribbles and crossings-out, a big mess of a memo. Her ideas are crystal clear, though. For Kristy, she embroiders a denim baseball cap with a tiny softball and her name in shaky cursive stitching. It took multiple afternoons under Mimi’s patient supervision, but she finishes it just in time, and she’s positive that Kirsty will  _ adore  _ it. Claudia’s gift is way easier - she decorates a little box she found at the thrift store with all the diamantes and glitter she can find, tucking packets of candy into the velvet folds inside. Simple, but effective.

Mary Anne’s present takes a little while longer, but she’s sure it’ll be worth it. Stacey had begged her mom to bring home some posterboard, slathering it in craft glue and glitter and collage paper until it beamed all sorts of crazy colours. She’d pasted pictures upon pictures of the group across the page, layering the memories of the gang at Camp Mohawk, at the school dance, of the time they went to Sea City. It’s dark outside by the time she’s finished, but Stacey couldn’t be prouder. It’s beautiful, a detailed testament to her friendship, and she just  _ knows  _ that Mary Anne’s going to cry when she sees it. She can’t wait. For Dawn, Stacey threads glimmering glass beads onto a shiny thread, alternating the coloured orbs until the string shines like sea glass in the sunshine. She can’t stop turning it over and over in her hands, admiring the way the bracelet casts rainbows onto her bedroom walls.

To Stacey, Christmas is all about making her friends feel important. New York has enough glitz and glam to get her heart fluttering, but it doesn’t have the incredible best friends she’s managed to find in the middle of nowhere. Christmas in Stoneybrook is about appreciating the unpolished gems, finding the wonder in the mundane, and Stacey couldn’t be happier. She has her friends, her health, her home; she has Stoneybrook, and Stoneybrook has her.

(Stacey does return to New York for a few years as an adult, but she comes back to Stoneybrook to settle down across the road from her childhood home. She’ll later tell her kids that her first Christmas in Stoneybrook is most definitely the best holiday she’s ever had.) 

**005.**

_ Dear diary, _

_ This is the best Christmas ever! No, seriously, I mean it. Mom and I always have fun holidays, but having Mary Anne and Mr Spier around is sooo different. I thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head when Mom opened the sherry at breakfast! Good thing Mary Anne’s a quick thinker - she put some carols on and he got distracted by how loud the music was. Mr Spier’s so funny - I have to be careful he doesn’t see us giggling or else we’d be in big trouble! _

_ Mary Anne loves decorating the house almost as much as I do, and that’s a LOT. Mom and I always put lots of flowers around the house during the holidays (Granny said they welcome good spirits, but I’m sure) and she was totally on board to help me get them all organised. She even suggested the mistletoe to try and get our parents together (ick - I don’t need to see that!).  _

_ I can’t journal for too much longer - it’s almost lunch, and that means lots and lots of guests. We’re going to have all of the girls and their families over, like we’re one big happy family with lots and lots of siblings. Five sisters - can you imagine that? I wish I was that lucky. Still, Mom tells me all the time how lucky we are, and she’s totally right.  _

_ Reasons why this Christmas is THE BEST (AKA why I am super duper lucky): _

  1. _Mary Anne and Mr Spier are really, truly, part of the family_
  2. _We get to have all of the baby-sitters together, finally!_
  3. _None of Mom’s cooking has caught on fire (yet)._



_ I gotta go - I’m not entirely convinced that Mr Spier can keep Mom out of trouble for long. _

_ Write soon, _

_ Dawn. _


End file.
